Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

her eyes at that. "I never thought you had anything to do with the leak. If you'd found proof of what I was doing, you would have rubbed it in my face."

He smiled weakly. "You're right. I would have."

She looked over, studied the man slumped across from her, seeing his vulnerability for the very first time and aching. Whatever he'd done, he didn't deserve this. Neither of them did. "I know why Ed hates me," she said. "What I don't get is what he has over you."

He squirmed to get comfortable, his face twisting. "It's a long story."

"We all have them, Holden," she said softly. "Why don't you tell me about it? Maybe talking will keep your mind off things."

"There's really not much to tell," he said, settling back as much as was possible. "I feared my past had come back to consume me. But it hadn't. It was Dr. Hill exploiting what he'd found out."

Neva glanced over and frowned. "I don't understand."

"My parents were missionaries. Did you know that?" He tilted his head to one side and considered her. "Did your boyfriend tell you?"

"Mick?" God, where was Mick? Why hadn't she told him again that she loved him? "He hasn't said anything to me about your family."

"He knew." Holden closed his eyes. "Not that it would be hard to discover. The newspaper clippings are archived. It was quite the sensational case. Two of the Lord's flock snuffed out on his altar. Their bodies discovered by their son."

"You?" she asked, stretching her legs, her shoulders aching from holding her arms behind her, her nose itching from breathing in the dry dust.

"Yes. Though that wasn't exactly the truth. I didn't discover them." He paused; she watched his chest rise and fall, watched him struggle to breathe, to cough without causing himself pain. "I was there when they were killed."

Time stopped. Her eyes widened. "You witnessed their murder?"

He shook his head, the heels of his Italian leather shoes scraping over the hard-packed ground as he shoved his lower body up against the wall. "I caused their murder. In fact, I helped plan their murder."

Her gasp echoed in the small dim cavern. "What?"

"It was a difficult way to grow up, trying to meet their expectations. I needed a chart. A to-do and a to-don't list." Holden's tone was wry. "Especially since what was right and what was wrong seemed to depend on what they'd discovered during a particular day's studies."

"That must have been frustrating."

"Frustrating I could have lived with. This was worse. Waking up each day afraid to step foot out of bed. More afraid not to. Uncertain whether the clothes I put on were plain enough, whether I should have added a tie. Whether a T-shirt and jeans were appropriate or vulgar. Not knowing if I should eat breakfast or fast."

"This was their idea of faith?"

He nodded. "Faith that an outsider would have seen right through. But I didn't know anything else. I was educated in the mission's school and only allowed to socialize with other members of the congregation. Which I did. At least until I was older and they hired me out to work as a stock boy for one of the elders. He ran a small grocery."

"And you finally saw the light."

"In a matter of speaking," he admitted. "Most of my co-workers were also part of the flock. It just so happened that I became fast friends with the one who wasn't. Ronnie was Mr. Robinson's nephew. His parents had been killed and the Robinsons took him in. Our favorite pastime quickly became plotting the downfall of the church."

He tried to laugh but coughed, a racking sound that made Neva wonder about damage to his ribs and his lungs. "Holden, if it hurts to breathe, don't talk. It's not that important that I know. I'd rather you be comfortable," she said, offering what little bit of solace she could.

"It doesn't matter," he said, a verbal dismissal of her concern before going on. "Nothing matters any longer. In fact, nothing has mattered for a very long time. Not since the night Ronnie decided to kill two birds with one stone. You see, if my parents were out of the way, there would be little holding the mission together. And I would be free."

A chill pierced her at the base of her throat and slid like ice through her body. "He killed them."

"He slit their throats while they were kneeling in prayer in front of the altar. The blood ... It was everywhere. I don't think I screamed. Or cried. I couldn't." He coughed again, groaned again, unable to work into a comfortable position. "I'd hated them both for years. I'd dreamed of killing them. It was like watching my fantasy."

He paused then, stayed silent so long Neva heard the cave echo with his raspy breath. But then he shuddered, as if brought back to the present by his own thoughts. "I could've saved them. If I'd opened my mouth. If I'd warned them. I didn't. I wanted them to die. And I was an accessory because I'd stood by and watched and done nothing. Nothing."

What he'd lived with was a horror as bad as what she carried with her. What Candy tried to forget. What Jeanne never would. Yet this was different. Candy and Jeanne and all the girls Neva had known were the innocents, the victims, the prey of this sort of evil.

Holden was the evil. A choking ball of emotion—fear? revulsion?—rose in Neva's throat. She wanted out of here, to wash her hands, to breathe fresh air. To never again see this man's face. "What I don't get is why you would work for Earnestine Township. Why you would marry Liberty. Why you wouldn't put anything to do with religion behind you. With your history?" She shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense that you would be a First Amendment advocate."

"A penance, perhaps? A making of amends?" He rocked his head back and forth, closed his eyes.